


Second Nature

by iamanidhwal



Series: 'Tis The Season [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Fanfiction Challenge, 31 Days of Ficmas, 31 Days of Ineffables, 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cold, Cold Weather, Comfort, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), December Fanfic Challenge, Fanfiction, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snakes, Snow, Snowed In, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 15:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanidhwal/pseuds/iamanidhwal
Summary: The first snowfall in London for this year was unexpectedly heavy. Crowley and Aziraphale are effectively shut off from the world for at least a day.The angel feels inexplicably festive. The demon, however, hasn't moved a muscle in three hours.(Day 2 of "31 Days of Ineffables" Challenge -- Snow)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 'Tis The Season [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560976
Comments: 4
Kudos: 142





	Second Nature

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2of the "31 Days of Ineffables" Advent Challenge!
> 
> This time, with the prompt of "Snow"! 
> 
> A little idea I had, toying with the fact that snakes slow down and regulate their temperature and metabolism in cold weather. Coziness guaranteed!
> 
> Very short, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

* * *

An angel and a demon found themselves snowed into the former's bookshop situated in London on the second day of December. 

Aziraphale, ever in the mood for something festive as soon as the huge Christmas Trees in every shopping mall have been lit, was already perched by the window of his shop, watching the snow falling in gentle little clumps onto the streets below. London wasn't deterred by cold weather (well, colder than usual), and passersby just hunkered over lower, adjusted their scarves, and went on around as usual.

"Lovely, isn't it?" he said wistfully, smiling as he propped his chin up with one hand. "I love the snow. It looks so beautiful, and there's something so romantic about it. Something that makes you want to go out, have fun, do everything amidst the cold. Or sometimes it just makes you want to stay in, under a warm blanket, with hot cocoa and a nice book. Wouldn't you agree, dear?"

"Mh."

Aziraphale turned around, a little miffed at the lackluster response. Crowley, still wearing his all-black ensemble, had somehow defied the laws of physics or physiology. His body looked like it had melted at some point, as his legs were awkwardly stretched out on the floor at different angles, and his torso was three-fourths of the way over the edge of the seat he had been occupying. His head just rested on the seat itself, and the demon's eyes were closed. 

Aziraphale huffed. "Crowley."

"Mm."

"Come on, now, did you really come into my shop just to lounge around all day?" The angel stood up, clapping his hands together loudly. "Pip, pip, come on."

"Nnnh," was all Crowley said, grunting. He made to roll over, but he couldn't even do that in his extremely lethargic state, and his arms were left there, hanging like mannequin limbs from the armrest. 

Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a flare of annoyance. "Oh, come now, dear, I know you don't like the festivities, but lighten up a little. You're the one who wanted to go out today."

"Changed my mind." Crowley's head lolled to the side to stare at him. There was an energy around him that he wanted to do his usual, mean, no-nonsense glare, but it had lost its steam. 

The angel sighed loudly, then crouched down to help him up. "At least don't sit like that, you look like a broken marionette doll --"

But his sentence died on his tongue, train of thought derailed right in the middle, when his hands brushed against Crowley's exposed arms. 

"Crowley!" He yelped, frightened. "You're freezing!"

"Wha?"

"My dear, why didn't you say so?" he squeaked, bustling about to keep Crowley dumped into one corner of the couch, his feet bringing him to the back room to get some of the blankets that he kept there for cozy nights in cold weather. "Bugger, is the heater working? I've just had Mr. Edgeworth check it a fortnight ago!"

"Angel..."

"Shush, now, serpent, get warm," he grumbled, all but dumping three layers of wool blankets of the same tartan design that dominated Aziraphale's closet on the demon's lap. He made sure to tuck him in, because the damn demon won't move a single muscle, and by the time he was done, Aziraphale had made Crowley into a human burrito, fully cocooned from the heels of his boots up to his neck.

Crowley just hummed and closed his eyes, burrowing his nose. Aziraphale sat on the pouf, regarding him. The demon was different; he didn't know the reason behind the change of behavior was, but the angel didn't like how it had come so suddenly. And for him to change his mind about going out, when it was usually him who'd have to force Aziraphale to move get his holy ass off of the cushions... it was worrying, to say the very least.

He had never seen him like this; Crowley, with all of his endless energy and quips and sass. Were he not moving, his mind was racing, eyes perpetually open, observing, regarding, judging.

But now, Crowley looked as if he was withdrawing into himself, isolating himself. Bringing everything into himself, burdening himself with invisible sacks of troubles like he did decades, centuries ago. A distant memory regarding duck's ears and a slip of paper weaseled into Aziraphale's mind, and his heart clenched painfully. Was it happening again? Was Crowley keeping something from him? Was Aziraphale too oblivious once more?

Aziraphale didn't know what he did wrong, but he wanted to correct any wrongs he might have done.

"Right," he mumbled under his breath, standing up to march to the kitchen.

There was a weak, soft mumble of 'angel' from the lump that was Crowley on the couch, but he didn't heed the call. "I'm making you cocoa," he said, already taking the milk and the packet of hot chocolate from the cupboards. Not the way he'd usually make, because he'd like to stir it by hand made from cocoa tablets, but time was of the essence.

"Angel." It was stronger this time, but still weaker than Crowley's usual cadence. 

Aziraphale winced, opening the packet and mixing it in with milk. He barely noticed that his hands were shaking, not at all accustomed to yet another big change in Crowley's demeanor. "You stay put."

"_ Aziraphale. _"

The angel in question jumped in surprise, looking up to see Crowley by the doorway to the kitchen. He had the blankets hanging limply from his shoulders like a scarecrow wearing a jacket ten sizes big. Crowley was panting, as though it was of great effort for him to stand up and walk all of ten paces to the kitchen. "Don't ignore me."

Aziraphale gulped, holding the packet of hot chocolate close to his heart. "My dear, are you sick?"

"No -"

"Then, pray tell, _ what exactly is the matter with you?!" _

Crowley grunted a little, taken aback by the ferocity of the angel snapping. His hands were visibly shaking now, but Aziraphale had already crossed the line he himself had drawn. 

"Tell me... what did I do?" he gulped, arms going limp and dropping to the sides. His gaze was fixated on the floor, the scuffs on the wooden boards, the faded beige carpet frayed at the ages. "Is there something I did...? Was there something I could have done...?"

"Satan, no." Crowley sighed weakly, holding onto the doorframe. "Aziraphale, it's not you. It's me."

"What?" Aziraphale blinked. That sounded like a break-up line from a romantic-comedy film. Were they breaking up? Was he leaving, again? For good, this time?

"Wait, no!" Crowley yelped, as though he had read the thoughts in the angel's head exactly as it crossed through. "No, no, nothing of that sort!"

"Then what?"

"It's bloody _ cold! _ " Crowley hissed, grabbing the ends of the blankets and pulling them to his body as though to prove a point. "And I'm _ cold-blooded. _You know how snakes end up curled up in one corner of the tank, barely moving?"

Aziraphale had the urge to laugh at the mental image of a tiny, black-and-red snake curled up in a pile on a corner of a tank, head buried under its long body. A flicker of movement, a serpentine tongue flitting through the spaces before no movement again.

"Is... Is that what..."

"Yes," Crowley groaned, smiling weakly. "Really, Aziraphale. I would have loved to go out, but there is nothing I'd love more than to stay in with you today."

The smile on Aziraphale's face widened, and the angel stepped closer to nudge him back into the couch. "Cocoa will be served in a bit. Just rest."

Crowley obliged, nodding a little as he yawned. "Can I have a request?"

"Anything, dear."

"Read to me?"

Aziraphale smiled, nodding as well. "I'd love that."

And so, on the second of December, London saw its first snowfall of the season. An angel and a demon technically weren't really snowed in, but they considered they were, all the same. Aziraphale read through Canterbury Tales, a mug of cocoa in hand, and a sleepy demon sprawled across his lap. There were but a few moments of changes, with Aziraphale reaching for his drink or with Crowley shifting position to see and hear the angel above better, but they always settled. They were comfortable, they were content. 

And that, they had decided, had been one of the best days they've had in a long, long while.


End file.
